In the Light of One Night
by EternalStar1
Summary: After losing Ron and her parents, Hermione feels lost and alone. No one can get through to her, until the most unexpected person shows her the understanding she needs. ONESHOT DMHG


**AN:** Taking a break from my fic a bit. That story has really been consuming me and literally eating me up. I actually started working on this a long time ago, and any time I needed a bit of a break, I'd work on this one. My other story is a bit depressing... not like this one is all that cheerful either. (What is with me and tragedy?) It's not very long, but it took a while to come together. Getting characterizations right was a bit difficult. And it was strangely difficult to write this as the story refers to a lot of things that have happened in the past. Not everything is spelled out, but hopefully, it's all clear enough.

Well, anyway, read and enjoy. Reviews would also be greatly appreciated!

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In the Light of One Night**

From across the room, he stares hard at her, standing by the window. But she isn't looking at him. She stares out the window, looking at the moon. A full, silvery orb trapped in a cold, black, starless sky.

The room is dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight streaming in through the two windows. The light strikes the objects in the room, casting long shadows. He can barely see her face, obscured by her bushy hair and lost in shadow. But he doesn't need to. He already knows what it looks like.

"You could try talking."

Hermione turns and looks at him. Draco is shocked by the look in her eyes, a look that sends chills down Draco's spine. They are empty.

"What good would it do?" Her voice is hollow.

Draco says nothing. He knows there is nothing he _can_ say.

"I've lost everything," Hermione says finally. "Ron. My parents."

"Not everything."

"Everything that mattered," Hermione says adamantly. Leaning against the window, she puts her head against the glass and covers her face with her hands.

Draco watches her, wondering what he should do next. Usually, things are the other way around. It's rather new for him to be in this position. Giving words of inspiration has never been his strong suit. Insults and degrading comments? _That_ is his forte. There he excels. But inspiring speeches and cheesy cliché words? That's more of Granger's thing. Well… at least it used to be.

"You still have Potter. Ginny." He lists them on his fingers. He rolls his eyes. "You still have your life, for Merlin's sake," Draco says, exasperation and a hint of annoyance inching into his voice.

"And what use is that?"

Draco crosses the room in three long strides. He grabs her wrist and stares her in the eye. "What the bloody hell are you saying, Granger?" he asks in a low voice. "Are you listening to a single damn thing you're saying? You told me life is the most precious thing I could have. What the fuck do you mean by saying that your life is useless?"

"I was wrong!" Hermione tears away from Draco's touch. "When I told you all those things, I was still naïve and idealistic and just stupid! I didn't know what I was saying. I was wrong." She turned away from him. "Whether we win or lose, I've lost. Completely."

Draco tries desperately to control his anger… to be _considerate._ Potter has told him he has already tried hard to talk to Hermione, but nothing would get through. Losing her parents had been hard on her, but then she had her best friends to lean on. Weasley, especially. But then, little more than a week ago, Weasley died in battle. Hermione had always believed the three of them would see the war through. Losing Ron was like losing part of her soul.

Since Ron's death, Hermione has been rather listless. At the funeral this morning, she hadn't shed a tear. And truthfully, that's more frightening to them than if she couldn't stop crying. At least they could be sure she was alive.

Draco takes a deep breath and valiantly tries again, though in the back of his mind, he's wondering why he's trying at all. "Listen to me…"

- - -

_He doesn't understand, _she thinks_. He can't. He doesn't know what I've been through._

Hermione fixes her look out the frost-tinged window. She examines the paved street, lined with snow. In the distance, she can hear Draco's voice. She assumes his voice is forming words, and those words are forming sentences, but what he is saying, Hermione can't say.

Her mind drifts back. She starts thinking about Mum. About Dad. About Ron. _No. No. I can't think about them._ She fights to keep those thoughts back. Not here. Not in front of him.

Draco's suddenly harsh tone jerks her out of her thoughts. "Granger, did you hear anything I said?" he asks impatiently.

She turns to look at him, but she says nothing.

He's angry now. She knows he is. She can tell by the colour of his eyes. They darken ever so slightly when he is angry. Even in the dim light, she can tell.

"Granger," he growls.

"What?" she says tiredly, exasperation clear in her voice.

She's agitating him, she knows. She can sense him tensing. But she doesn't care. _He has no right. He couldn't possibly understand._

"No one can bloody help you if you don't talk."

Hermione shakes her head. She can't talk to anyone. She doesn't need their pity. She just needs him to stop talking, for them to leave her alone.

He heaves a frustrated sigh. "It will _help_…"

"Nothing will help," Hermione snaps. "All right? Nothing. Nothing can help me."

"That's rubbish, Granger," he says through gritted teeth.

"No. _No. _None of you know what I've been through…"

Draco seems to grow with rage. "What the bloody hell do you mean by that, Granger? You're not the only person who's lost someone."

She turns on him, her eyes livid. "Don't you think I know that?" she shouts. "I'm not blind, Malfoy."

"Could have fooled me," he retorts.

"Don't pretend like you know what I've been through." She strains, not wanting to say anymore. But he keeps pushing her.

"You're so bloody full of yourself, Granger. I think _I_ know…"

"Shut up!" she yells, finally breaking. "You _don't_ know. You just… You have no idea! My parents… they would be alive now if I weren't a witch." Despair edges its way into her voice. Her words are laced with self-loathing and misery. "If I weren't a bloody witch… If I weren't a witch, they'd be alive now. They died because of me. Because of _me_. I couldn't even protect them when they needed me. I _failed_. I failed them. They died because of me."

Draco looks at her, eyes flashing.

"And Ron," she continues, her voice breaking ever so slightly, "Ron would be alive too if I hadn't turned my back at that moment. I shouldn't have turned my back. I know better than that. I shouldn't… I didn't… How can I face Mrs. Weasley ever again?" She thinks of the haunting look in Mrs. Weasley's eyes as she buried her youngest son. No mother should ever have to do that. She waits, expecting to feel her heart ache. But she feels nothing. She's numb. Empty.

- - -

The pain on her face is killing him. "She doesn't blame you."

"But _I _do. It's my fault."

"It's not your sodding fault, Granger…"

"Just stop talking, Malfoy."

He remains silent, not because of her demand, but because at this point, he's run out of things to say.

- - -

She's surprised when he actually listens and says nothing. She waits, thinking he'll respond, but he doesn't move. He doesn't say anything. He just stands there, watching her. "Leave me alone, Malfoy."

"No," he replies immediately.

Hermione is getting frustrated. "What do you want from me, Malfoy?"

"I want you to talk to me."

"I _have_ been talking to you."

"What are you so afraid of, Hermione?"

"I lost my parents! I lost the man who loved me!" She explodes. "I'm all alone now, and everyone who loved me is gone. Gone. And it's my fault they're gone."

She sees him boring his eyes onto hers, but she refuses to return his gaze. He's hesitating. He opens and closes his mouth several times before he can finally utter what he meant to say.

"I could love you."

She looks at him incredulously now. _Is he mocking me?_

"Don't lie to me, Malfoy."

"I could."

"You don't know how." She turns away. She doesn't need this nonsense.

"I'm not the same person…" he starts.

"You haven't changed." Hermione crosses her arms and looks away, avoiding his eyes. "You haven't changed at all."

"I have," he insists.

She laughs at him. A bitter, biting laugh that grates.

"You were always so determined to believe in the best of everyone," Draco says. "You were always the one who fought for hopeless causes. You tried to liberate house elves, for Merlin's sake. You believed in good and making the world a better place… why can't you believe in me?"

"Things change," Hermione replies apathetically.

"So why can't I?"

She doesn't answer.

He looks at her again. She can't bear to stay under his pitying gaze. As she tears her eyes away, she notices that he's not looking at her with pity, but understanding…

- - -

"You don't have to pretend," he says. "You don't have to be alone."

"It's better sometimes," she mumbles.

"That's not what you used to tell me."

A pause.

"I was mistaken," she finally says, almost reluctantly.

Quiet. Normally, he'd make a joke about her being wrong, Draco notes. But something tells him that this is not the right time for that.

"Most of my life I've been alone," Draco says, breaking the stillness.

"You were never…"

"People were around me, but I was alone," Draco cuts in. "You think solitude is the worst loneliness?" He shakes his head. "It's when you're surrounded, when people are everywhere. But no one understands. No one cares."

Hermione looks at him. She seems to be finally listening.

"It's never better to be alone. You know that."

She opens her mouth as if she wants to speak. Draco anticipates what she might say. _I was wrong_. But she stops and says nothing.

They stand in silence for a while. Draco wonders again if he should say something. Maybe. He hesitates briefly. Then, rather unceremoniously, he speaks.

- - -

"Dumbledore died because of me."

Hermoine cringes at the horrible, dull thud the words make as they leave his mouth. They slice through the air, cutting everything. Plain words. Plain, terrible words. Terrible because they both know every one is brutally true.

Hermione tries to tell him _No, no it's not your fault_ but she falters. Her mouth opens, but she can't form the words. Her voice makes no sound. Seeing this, Draco laughs.

"Can't even bring yourself to tell me it isn't true, huh, Granger?" He smiles a horrible, sadistic smile. Hermione's eyes wilt at the corners a bit. "Every night," Draco says. "I think about it every night. And Mother. She died because of me. Because _I _failed. You're not the only one who's lost a parent. You're not the only one who blames themselves. You're not the only one who's ever failed someone else."

"It wasn't…"

"But it was." Draco's voice is cold now. Cold and hard. As if he is indifferent. But Hermione can see the hurt in his eyes as he speaks of his mother. She remembers the night Draco appeared at the Orders headquarters, carrying his mother's lifeless body in his arms. Somewhere, she feels her heart aching just a bit as she recalls that memory.

They lock eyes briefly. Slowly, Draco casts his gaze downward.

"So, you see, Granger," Draco says quietly, "I do know."

- - -

She's thinking. Draco can tell by the way she chews on her bottom lip. He's seen her do it many times when Potter or Weasley asked her a particularly inane question. He's seen her do it as she looked over Potions ingredients. Her eyes glaze over slightly, and she absentmindedly bites at her lip, fidgeting slightly. Her eyes flit over to him, briefly. She wants to say something, but she's unsure.

"Do you regret it?" Draco looks blankly at her. "What you did," she elaborates. Her voice softens. "Do you?"

"What use is there in that?" For the first time, Draco is the one to turn away.

"Do you?"

Draco doesn't want to talk about it. He can see the need in her eyes. She needs him to tell her _Yes, I do, _and he could say it, truthfully. But somehow, saying it out loud would make it more real than he wants it to be. Speaking the words would make everything he feels concrete, in the form of a confession.

"It wouldn't change _anything_," Draco says, his tone hardening.

"But do you?" she presses.

"Do _you_?" He asks coldly and callously, turning the question back to her. Hermione immediately flinches, as if he had just slapped her. Draco feels a strange pulling sensation in his gut. It feels like a hand is twisting his insides. _Guilt_, he identifies. He wishes he hadn't said that to her. He shouldn't have.

She looks defeated now. "I guess it doesn't matter," Hermione admits quietly.

"No." Draco shakes his head. His voice is shaky and unsteady. She looks up at him with surprise and confusion. "It won't change anything," he continues, "but it does matter. It always matters." He walks closer to her, and she doesn't step away. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't regret it? What kind of person would _you_ be if you didn't?"

Hermione bites her lip. She's fighting back tears. "I just wish…"

"I know," Draco murmurs. He gently wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his embrace. She feels so small, so fragile pressed next to him. "I know," he whispers into her hair. "But it's not your fault. And even if it were, blaming yourself and hating yourself can't bring them back."

Hermione struggles, her voice sounding choked. "I just feel so alone."

Draco tilts her head up so he can look at her. "But you're not. You still have Harry and Ginny and all the Weasleys and the Order, remember? You have _me.._." He smiles crookedly at her. "Hermione, we're still here. You only need to let go, and let us be here for you."

"But I can't."

"You can. I know you can," Draco says firmly. He released her from his arms and grabs her by the shoulders so that she can see his face fully. "You just need to learn what I did, what _you_ showed me… that you must first forgive yourself…"

- - -

Hermione looks at him as if she has never seen him before. She tilts her head and stares for a very long time, thinking. In the moonlight, his white blonde hair seems almost like a halo. He's looking at her intently. Not with pity. And it's beyond understanding. He looks at her with compassion, something she never realised he could feel. "You _have_ changed," she concludes.

He doesn't say anything, but he gives her a smug look that clearly says _I told you so_.

- - -

"Thank you," she says after a short pause.

Draco raises an eyebrow. "For?" he inquires.

"Helping me. Talking some sense into me. And… just being here."

His lips curve into a slight smirk. "Well, Granger, you did do the same for me. Remember when you bloody followed me everywhere trying to get me to talk? Merlin, you were so annoying. It was so painful and such a struggle, I thought I'd return the favour and torture you a bit."

She smiles a little at his attempt at a joke. It's a genuine smile. Draco sees her eyes glow slightly with amusement. She seems better now – calmer, more relaxed, less tense and… at peace with herself. At least for now. Hermione almost seems herself again. The shadows previously covering her face have now vanished and Draco can see her features illuminated by the dim light of the moon. She looks so beautiful. _Her eyes_. They're warm again and regaining the warmth that had once been so familiar to them. Draco stares, enraptured. He can't tear his gaze away… and he doesn't want to.

- - -

"I was wrong," Draco says.

Hermione looks up curiously, wondering what he means. "About what?" she asks.

"About loving you," he responds evenly.

Her face falls a bit. "You were?"

Draco nods. "I said I could love you. And I was wrong."

Hermione feels her heart falling. _Of course,_ she thinks. She stares down at the ground and sighs. "Oh," she says, her voice very small.

- - -

"I already do."

"What?" Hermione jerks up her head.

Draco smiles. Her face seems livelier now, hopeful almost. Like it was given new life _I did this,_ he thinks proudly. He reaches out and gently sweeps an errant curl away from the lovely curves of her face. Slowly, he leans in towards her and brushes her temple with his lips. "I love you," Draco says simply.

Hermione smiles gently. "Maybe you do," she responds shyly.

The two stand in a comfortable silence. Draco admires the warmth in Hermione's beautiful brown eyes. She's looking down, but the corners of her lips are turned ever so slightly upwards. Her previously shadowed face now glows softly.

"You know what I think?" she says finally.

"What?"

Hermione looks up and into Draco's grey eyes. She's smiling unguardedly now. "I could love you, too."

Draco smirks. "I know."


End file.
